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Susie waved away my money. “I can see you out there meeting with that Winterberry Glen official on Christmas festival business. This one is on me.”
I knew better than to argue with Susie when she was trying to be giving, so I put a few dollars in the tip jar instead.
“How’s that all going anyway?” Susie asked, as she mixed in the perfect amount of oat milk and flavored syrup—after being home for over four months, Susie was well aware of my iced coffee preferences.
“We’re meeting with a few vendors today, and then I’m doing an interview with a blog that highlights small-town events and festivals—trying to get the word out about our new features as soon as possible.”
I left out how aggravating and overbearing it was to have to run everything by a double checker from Winterberry Glen, trying to keep a positive face when I was talking about the festival prep to anyone in town. Everyone was worried about us losing the charter and was willing to pitch in however they could. I didn’t want to make anxieties worse by being anything less than mistletoe and starlight when representing the festival back to the town.
Susie handed me my iced coffee.
“I’m glad to hear things are going well and moving forward. I was worried when I hadn’t seen you two around town yet.”
I was more than worried when I realized Cole no longer wanted to breathe the same recycled air as me after the Pepper’s incident, I thought to myself.
“We’ve been meeting in his office in Winterberry Glen, or virtually mostly. Before now, it’s been a lot of planning and spreadsheets and cold-calling. Now that we’re five months out, we’ll have to be in Holly Ridge working more often.”
Susie nodded. “Well, just let me know if I can do anything more than provide the cookies for the cookie decorating. The festival is always so huge for business for us. I’m already looking for extra help, so we can have everyone trained up for the festival.”
I tried not to let my shoulders tighten any more than they were. This reminder of how important the festival was to the small businesses of Holly Ridge only added to the pressure to have a successful event. Sipping my coffee, I looked out the window and almost spit it right back out. Rick had pulled up while I was chatting with Susie and was now talking to Cole from his truck window.
“Ah! Thanks so much for the coffee, Susie!” I practically shouted as I ran out the door.
I do not need those two alone together for any longer than necessary. I could already imagine they would not get along.
Chapter 7
Cole
I had barely slept last night, knowing what today would bring. I had avoided being in person with Blaire after I had almost given into the temptation of her soft lips, gorgeous eyes, appealing smell—well, it’s clear why I had done so, right? I knew as the festival approached, I wouldn’t be able to keep pushing her off on virtual meetings. So, here I was, facing the heat of a New England summer morning, time spent in Holly Ridge, and of course, more time spent with Blaire.
So, even though I could have really used a coffee when Blaire asked if she could get me anything from Jitters, I found myself responding with a sarcastic comment about the quality of coffee found in Holly Ridge. I probably deserved the eye roll that response got me, but I didn’t need to find myself indebted to Blaire for anything, even just a few bucks for a cup of cold coffee.
Just five more months, I thought to myself. This whole county will be in my rearview mirror in just five more months.
I was having to keep my eye on the prize. Working so closely with someone from Holly Ridge, and on the Christmas festival at that, was turning out to be a bit harder than I thought it would be. Blaire’s professional-yet-somehow-super-sexy blazers weren’t nearly as tantalizing through a computer monitor and seeing them in person definitely didn’t help one bit.
As I sat there sweating in the town square, I was just about to follow Blaire into Jitters to buy my own iced coffee when a pickup truck with “Ice, Ice Baby Rinks” in huge vinyl letters on the side pulled up alongside where I was sitting.
“Hey, bro,” the driver greeted me, a land-locked surfer dude wearing what used to be a t-shirt, with the sleeves cut off to reveal his arms and part of his side and a baseball cap backward. “Are you the numbers dude working with Blaire on the Holly Ridge festival?”
I blinked slowly at him. “If by numbers dude, you mean Cole Thomas, the Winterberry Glen CFO, then yes, that’s me.”
The driver smirked.
“Blaire said I’d recognize you as the only guy wearing a long-sleeved button-down and khakis in the town square during a heat wave. I’m Rick, owner of Ice, Ice Baby Rinks, the portable ice rink vendor Blaire’s considering for the festival. Let me park and I’ll be right with you.”
I watched the truck pull away, not sure whether to focus on the fact that Blaire was describing my clothing choices to one of our potential vendors or the fact that I doubted this guy could identify any water forms that didn’t exist at the beach, let alone create a portable ice rink.
I was stewing about surfer boy Rick when Blaire came rushing back across the street, iced coffee in hand, moving way too quickly for someone wearing a white blazer and carrying a cup of coffee capable of staining it.
“Hi! Guys! I see you’ve met! Rick, Cole. Cole, Rick.”
Blaire was practically shouting at us as she approached, joining me in the town square at the same time as Rick. Her face was flushed, but I wasn’t sure if that was from the heat, her 100-meter coffee dash, or something else.
“Blaire Bear!” Rick exclaimed, and grabbed Blaire around the waist, spinning her in a circle, again endangering her white blazer. Why was I so obsessed with her blazers?
He returned her to the ground.
